


Killing me softly

by tintedsushi



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, One Shot, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:06:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintedsushi/pseuds/tintedsushi
Summary: Or when Eiji cannot seem to move on from the love of his life, even though everything around him already has.
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	Killing me softly

_Year 2003_

It was pouring heavily at two in the morning, but the space inside the dingy apartment was far colder than the gale rattling the trees outside. 

_Three, two, one._

The raven-haired man shivered vehemently, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the sudden peculiar draft that seemed to have enveloped him out of nowhere, or from something else entirely. He also did not know exactly why or what he was counting down to, but did not bother to care either. It was perplexing how the futile act did nothing to unsettle him; instead, it seemed almost right to the man to compulsively mutter the numbers under his shallow breath, because he had been doing it every night all through the late hours to the wee morning for almost a year now. The mantra of digits swarming his mind strangely calmed the white noise in his head and lulled the racing of his heart to a dull thud. His fingers gripped tightly, almost desperately, around the cold leather material of the jacket wrapped around his shoulders. It wasn’t his, but that was exactly why he did not let go, _could not_ let go. It was Ash's.

One hand slipped slowly down to the corrugated copper tracks of the zipper, the skin of his fingertips tracing the cold metal absently. It felt like the cool and oddly relieving touch of a steel barrel on an expensive handgun; the kind that can only be bought with something as pure as brotherhood or as corrupted as a life, the kind that he realised he missed holding back in the days of his youth. In Eiji’s case, it had been gifted to him by the one person he had ever loved. He longed for the familiar weight of it resting once more in his grasp, deadly and cold and cruelly inviting but so ironically soothing in a way, much like how the weight of a particular warm, calloused hand draped over his felt like.

In the early half of his teenage years, Eiji had been just but a boy of etiquette and intellect; a well-mannered scholar who was the pride of the school and yet, found himself teetering on the edge of adulthood and feeling hopelessly frustrated about the things of the world he did not understand. He realised that he did not know about the people on this Earth as much as he thought he did, much less knowing anything at all about the dark precipices hidden in this deceptively bright, blanketed haven of a world heavy on romanticism and friendship and shared compassion for all things with the slightest hint of positivity. Such darkness was of the deprecating, unscrupulous works of gangsterism right in the underbelly of his neighbourhood, of which he had completely no knowledge and awareness about. He unwittingly idled his days away, either indulging in the meek interest of film photography or letting the sun stain his pale skin an optimistic tawny shade as he lay all day in the meadow reading David Chalmers’s philosophical works. However, those mundane days of teenage spirit were erased completely, almost like they had never happened to begin with, right when he met a boy of tall, lithe stature and sand-coloured hair in the town bar one day. Interestingly enough, his cornfield-blue eyes were the opposite of warmth and his satirical gaze was sharp enough to pierce right through Eiji’s being, making his heart shudder in his chest.

That boy was the one who had brought him the prime of his life, along with the gang he had single-handedly raised and managed. He showed Eiji the animalistic and lecherous nature of the world, and simply told him that he was merely flipping the same coin to the other side. Eiji began to learn how belligerent and diabolical some souls carried by human-shaped vessels truly were, and how intellect was used to manipulate and incriminate instead of invent and teach. Yet, the moments that the American boy brought Eiji were of the raw adrenaline and familial spark he had yearned to have all through his teenage life, the moments he would undoubtedly keep in the folds of his heart forever. 

The hazy recollection of those times brought forth the days filled with chugging cheap booze outside the arcade (which had rigged games costing more than a damn dollar and whose only players were rich kids living in the upper avenue) and spending whole hours on senseless card games in the makeshift den they had lazily thrown together; but he knew the best of the lot were those involving street brawls with rival gangs: he remembered how the summer heat was almost stifling his senses but not quite strong enough to melt the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the unruly curses of gangsters being strewn about the stuffy air of the alleyway as they tossed their weapons about, the beginnings of yet another uncivilised and brutal skirmish vividly unfolding before him in a tumultuous cacophony of carnal hollers and guns being cocked threateningly, yet he felt little fear with the revolver in his hand and Ash by his side. The feeling of his palm wrapped snugly around the polished upholstery leather of the gun grip provided a reprieve of comfort for him; the noise was whittling out of his ears like spring water trickling slowly out of a cracked boulder as he concentrated on the rear of the barrel held parallel to his line of sight, his forefinger brushing across the guard as he grazed his fingertip tentatively over the curved metal of the trigger. 

_To shoot, or not to shoot?_

Eiji then snapped out of his thoughts and haltingly found, not to his surprise, that he had asked himself that question all throughout his life. It used to be just logical contemplation in fights involving wit and agility, but nowadays it was downright unnerving and gut-wrenching to the ears of a loved one. Ever since he had lost both Ash and his gun in a heart-wrenching, cold-blooded grapple with a highly calculative rival gang, he’d come to terms with how obliterative intellect, mixed with a certain sense of self-righteousness, truly was. The family he had come to love and enjoy being a part of for years was ruthlessly torn apart without the leader they respected and needed, and Eiji was robbed of everything he had ever come to love in his life. He would give anything to get Ash back; the man he loved so much, yet knew not enough of.

Now, he was at a loss, but he did not think that he was depressed. He surely wasn’t. He only wished that he had the polished gun with the tanned leather grip in his hand right now, only wished that Ash would slowly recount to him the mannerisms of how to use it once more. He missed his voice so much; the voice he longed to hear was so warm and brazen and telling of everything Eiji needed to know. It carried a melancholic air to it, yet it was as promising as the eyes of the golden-haired boy when he gazed at Eiji. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and curled his fingers over the shape of the gun in his hand, his fingertips trembling but not stopping as he skimmed them self-assuredly over the familiar caricature of the weapon, and then dug his nails resolutely into the nicks in the sleek metal. 

_Three,_

Ash was telling him how to remove the safety grip and cock the gun correctly, the front of his torso warm against the small of Eiji’s back as the taller of the two wrapped his arm securely around the shoulder blades of the other. He gently grabbed Eiji’s hand, his long fingers carding over the knuckles of the slighter male and tingling the skin there as he wrapped them around the bulge of the gun buried in the flesh of Eiji's palm. Eiji relished in the warmth of his grasp as Ash clutched the back of his hand firmly; the gun grip was lodged sturdily within both of their gripping fingers, as if it belonged there, as the golden-haired man proceeded to maneuver the muzzle of the weapon against the corner of Eiji's jaw and drift it up and over the skin of his cheek slowly. 

_Two,_

The sensation of cold, biting metal grating across Eiji's skin suddenly inched to a stop when the muzzle of the gun reached his temple. Ash let out a soft huff in the middle of his words, his breath harsh against the back of Eiji's neck as he canted the end of the weapon across Eiji's skin in a deliberating manner. It made the raven-haired man shiver involuntarily; yet, in that moment, Eiji only wished that Ash would give him one last smile: the soft, sincere smile that he never got tired of seeing for years. He knew that Ash would at least give him that, so he determinedly gathered his bearings and turned back to look at him, to look at how this simple act of affection painted itself achingly slowly across the face of the man he loved. Amidst the blood thundering in his ears and the impending nausea attempting to derail his gut, Eiji could not help but smile back as well, for this very gesture he saw unfold so gloriously on Ash's face for as many as a thousand times now never failed to encompass his entire being and make his soul crumble helplessly into a million tiny pieces. He could not help but marvel at the way Ash's smile seemingly seeped into his cold, depthless eyes to soften their corners and melt the sting in their holding glare, the way it purposefully curved the lines of his cheeks in a serenely captivating manner as it melded his features into the most vulnerable, gentle expression only Eiji had the privilege of ever seeing... Unmistakably, he felt his heart swell in his chest, his breath stuttering as he tried to call the name of the man smiling so emboldenedly before him.

_One._

Eiji stopped abruptly, his all but short-lived sense of overwhelming love for the American boy unsparingly shattered as Ash suddenly dragged the pace of his words down to a mellow, almost placid rhythm and softened his voice to a near whisper; his breath was a touch hotter against the shell of Eiji's ear as he slowly pressed his finger against the tip of the trigger. His smile was still holding, but it was tainted by a touch of hostile unfamiliarity now, as if it carried more reproach than love. As Eiji dared himself to peer closer, he realised that the gesture Ash wore did not candidly warm his eyes and soften the planes of his face like it did before, nor did it stir Eiji's heart and make him want to love the man in front of him even more. 

The tone of Ash’s voice is now smooth and saccharine, yet precariously ominous at the same time. Eiji felt himself starting to shake slightly. He was suddenly very, _very_ cold.

_Now, shoot._

**Author's Note:**

> hey guysss ~  
> so.... i finally got the motivation to write again last night at 5am (yes, common writer's timing) after about 6 months of hibernation. i know, very active.  
> banana fish is one of my favourite shounen-ais and it just made me a sobbing, ugly mess by the end of it. my heart was completely wrung out and i've never hated this world more lmao. anyways, i've been wanting to write a one shot of ash x eiji for a long time now, and this is just a short one i came up with only this morning. it's a small, dark tidbit (i hope it's not too bitter ><) just for yall to occupy your quarantine a little with. i promise i'll be back with a longer one soon! pls leave literally anything you wanna say in the comments below, i appreciate every single feedback! i love you all so much. stay safe <3 xx


End file.
